


ooh, you make me live

by dollsome



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:23:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22710769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollsome/pseuds/dollsome
Summary: Rory and Paris spend Valentine's Day 2020 apart. (Or at least try to.)
Relationships: Paris Geller/Rory Gilmore
Comments: 29
Kudos: 211





	ooh, you make me live

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Valentine's Day prompt Rory/Paris + "miss you," from themailmanwonthelottery on Tumblr. :)
> 
> Robbing Good Omens a little (I know Good Omens doesn't OWN Queen's discography, and yet ... doesn't it?) and grabbing the title from "You're My Best Friend" by Queen, which is really an excellent Happily Ever After Raris anthem when you think about it.

Rory’s settling into the couch for some long-overdue reading time while upstairs, Lorelai dresses Emma and poor old Paul Anka as a pair of very glittery matching cherubs and Luke ineffectively pretends not to have any thoughts on the matter. (The Stars Hollow Kids Valentine’s Day Costume Contest is no joke. Lorelai’s costume vision is Ballroom Ceiling From _Beauty and the Beast_ Meets _Birds Of Prey_.) Rory called to check in with Paris and made sure to sneak a few carrot sticks and clementine slices onto the snack plate of Pop Tart Bites that went upstairs with everybody else, and now she’s got a blissful afternoon to find out what the big deal is about this Sally Rooney chick, anyway.

Then her phone buzzes.

She looks at the text. _I miss you._

Rory smiles and sets her book aside. (Sorry, _Normal People_.)

_We talked on the phone five minutes ago,_ she texts.

The little dots dance for awhile, and then Paris’s reply appears: _Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I want to be like this, all mewling and pathetic, pining for my beloved and her bastard child I’ve grown to adore as my own? (Don’t forget to practice Emma’s Spanish with her while you’re gone! Monolingual kids are going to be the first to go in the inevitable apocalypse. She was counting to ten when I practiced with her on Wednesday, so don’t let her trick you into thinking she can only get to five. If she gets pouty, remind her that Timoteo can count to one hundred and she needs to leave him in the dust or she’ll never be able to help usher in the matriarchal uprising when she gets older.) I raised myself to be an independent woman, not some lovesick nineteenth century heroine in a book by a man._

Rory texts back, _It’s one weekend in Stars Hollow so my mom and Luke can get some grandkid time and Emma can become a Valentine’s Day Costume Contest champion. We’ll be back together before you know it._ She takes a moment to add an abundance of heart emojis that Paris will pretend to hate. Then she throws in some snark to balance out all the sentimentality. _Besides, weren’t you going to use this Rory-less, kids-less weekend to be productive and finally check things off your epic to-do list because I lead you to a life of sloth and TV bingeing and spending way too much time in bed, a.k.a. a concept known as work/life balance?_

Paris replies: _About the to-do list …_

_Yeah?_ prompts Rory.

The doorbell rings.

Rory grins and hurries up off the couch.

Sure enough, Paris is standing on the front porch. “I can’t do it if you’re not there.”

“Aw,” says Rory, clasping her hands like Olive Oyl.

“I’m not being cute,” Paris says, acerbic and _very_ cute. “You know this about me. I need you to spur me into action. This dates all the way back to Chilton, and no matter what I do, I can’t shake it. I sat in my office all morning, and nothing. You’re essential to my brilliance, Gilmore. I don’t like it, but there it is.”

“Do you think it’s possible,” Rory says, leading Paris inside and helping her out of her coat, “that you just like having me around? You know, because of the whole you-love-and-adore-me thing?”

“Please. It’s a weak woman who can’t separate her personal feelings from her to-do list.”

“But basically,” teases Rory, “I’m your muse. Which,” she reflects, “is appropriately romantic for the Valentine’s season, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t come here for romance.”

“Well, too bad. You’re getting some,” Rory says, and kisses her hello.

When they pull apart, Paris is all glowy in that way that Rory’s loved since high school and most human beings wouldn’t believe possible of the terrifying Paris Eustace Geller.

“How about we go through your to-do list together?” Rory suggests in her most cheesy-seductive tones. (Lorelai would be proud.) “I even already have the Google doc you shared with me earlier pulled up on my phone, and I've got some thoughts.”

“I take it back,” Paris declares, happily accepting Rory’s hand and following her into the living room. “Romance is so on.”


End file.
